Anonymous

Anonymous
 
Often lost, always lonely
he wandered the byeways of the city:
krill in the belly of a whale.
 
After crossing the borders
from home to homelessness
from earthed to rootlessness
he dwelt in doorways,
cushioned by cardboard:
shop neon his night-light.
 
Of interest only to stray dogs or policemen
he wondered if he still, in fact, existed
though sometimes a passerby would
 break a busy stride
to stop,
to ask his name
and would he like a cuppa or a sandwich?
 
Only then would he hear his voice
(an untuned instrument)
and see his unregarded self
reflected in their soft eyes
and envy them their haste, their purpose,
their belonging.
 
By Carole Farnan